Voyeur
by silvermyth
Summary: Roxas likes to watch his new neighbor.


**A/N:** For the lovely Lia, for all she's done for the kh-worldsconnected blog, and also just for being an all-around awesome person. 3

 **Voyeur**

Roxas stayed in the back room of the shared house, and though his window offered a clear view of the house opposite, he still couldn't see the moving truck parked on the other side at mid-morning. Nor did his route to work take him past the next street, so when he collapsed on his bed that evening, he was surprised to see light coming from the other window.

The window didn't offer a view of the whole room: he could only just make out the edge of a stack of boxes, and beyond that, a partial view of a bed, already done up in black sheets. Roxas shrugged and picked up a waiting paperback from his nightstand. Made a mental note to avoid Sora, who was bound to come pestering him to meet the new neighbors and bring them some pie or something as soon as he found out.

He'd already made it through several pages of pulp when there was a flash of red in his peripheries. He flicked his eyes up, looking for the source and—ah. The new neighbor.

Wait. The red was from their _hair_?

Roxas raised his eyebrows, intrigued, because that was quite a vivid color for someone's hair. It was long, too, the person pulling it out of a sloppy bun as Roxas watched, only to gather it together into a new, slightly less messy bun. His eyebrows crept a little higher. Despite the long hair, the person across the alley was a man, tall and lean, with a subtle play of muscle under bare skin as he tugged off his shirt.

The man turned, towards the window, or maybe towards the boxes, arms akimbo, lips pursed in thought. His face was sharp and angular, almost vulpine, and although it wasn't the clearest view, he could still see the facial tattoos, like punctuation on his cheeks. Roxas was pretty sure he was handsome, even at a slight distance. His chest, at the very least, looked nice, and Roxas hoped that the neighbor didn't notice that he was admiring him, his paperback all but forgotten in one hand. Hoped that the guy didn't close the blinds, because then Roxas would be robbed of such a nice view.

He didn't.

Roxas realized, over the course of the next several days, that Axel—he'd learned his name from Sora who had, as expected, insisted on taking a pie over and meeting the new neighbors—Axel either didn't have blinds yet, or didn't care that his window left Roxas with an only partly-obscured view of his bed.

Roxas was perfectly fine with that.

He swore he didn't _mean_ to watch Axel at night, and sometimes in the mornings. That it was just incidental that he learned that Axel redid his bun every half hour, like it was an old habit. That Axel sometimes took night showers, and sometimes morning showers, and on hot days _both_ , and Roxas really liked hot days, because Axel looked good wet and, oh, he _never_ closed his blinds and maybe he knew Roxas was watching and left them open on purpose. Or maybe he really was that naive. But, Roxas was sure Axel had looked across the gap separating them, and seen him. Usually Roxas had a paperback in hand, anyway, and turned his eyes to the page as soon as it seemed Axel might see him.

And it was a little thrilling, thinking he might get caught watching, but also a little dangerous, because what if Axel noticed and decided he wouldn't keep the blinds open anymore?

It was also a little ridiculous, because Roxas had started to have something of a crush on Axel, without ever once speaking to him. Or it could just be lust. That seemed more likely, right?

Because sometimes, Axel would sit on the bed, his back against the wall, and Roxas wouldn't be able to tear his eyes away when those long fingers trailed down and slipped under his boxers.

He'd dropped his book the first time, because _surely_ Axel wouldn't do that with the fucking blinds open, without a care in the world, like there wasn't some perverted blond guy across the way already drooling over his bare chest.

But he did.

And Roxas wished he was closer, so he could see every detail of the man's erect cock, the way his fingers looked as he stroked himself, the pink flush of his cheeks. The way he bit his lip, and how his eyes fluttered when he was close.

Roxas practically hid behind his book the first few times, eyes wide and hungry, temperature rising, along with the pressure in his pants, and he wondered, if Axel were to look over, if he would see Roxas's own hand snaking down, pumping himself in time to Axel's strokes.

He was pretty sure that Axel got too carried away in the pleasure to notice his audience, and soon became bold. Looked forward to watching Axel, and imagining that they were touching each other.

They met, for the first time, on a weekend when both households decided to fire up their grills in celebration of extraordinary weather and all that came with it, introduced, of course, by Sora, over the top of the cinder-block walls separating their concrete back yards. Everyone smiled over beers as twilight descended, sharing funny stories, and Roxas was glad that Axel was just as sexy close up as he was over the distance separating their beds one story up.

And Axel had quite a sense of humor. He was cocky, but a little awkward at times, and Roxas wondered if he imagined the shy looks Axel sent his way.

"You know, we should have a real party," Demyx called over the wall. One of Axel's house mates, apparently. "We got Smash and Mario Kart, if you guys are down."

Axel's eyes narrowed—they were chartreuse green, Roxas noted—and he added, "Only if Zexion's not here. He's a fucking cheat—" And that devolved into raucous bickering on the other side of the wall, and laughter, and at the end of it, maybe Axel tried to catch Roxas's eye.

That night, Axel looked out his window, and for the first time, maybe, looked _at_ Roxas. He caught Roxas's eye, and waved, a lopsided grin on his face—perhaps a bit tipsy—and then carried on as usual. Though, Roxas noted, this was not a night of showering or self-pleasuring. At least, not with the light on, but Roxas thought he heard a soft gasp through their open windows.

That was probably wishful thinking, though, because really, sound didn't carry like that.

Sometimes Axel waved, after that, and they had more back yard barbeques that overlapped with each other. They spoke like neighbors, friendly acquaintances, but little more, and Roxas wasn't sure if he wanted to take it farther than that.

And Axel, more often than not, seemed to forget that Roxas's window was right across from his.

It was bound to happen, and one night it did. Axel's hand was wrapped tight around his cock, stroking, thumbing the tip of his erection, eyes slitted, head back against the wall. And then those eyes widened, and Axel froze, and Roxas froze, breaths already short, hand tight around his own arousal. If Axel had been flushed before, he was absolutely red when he realized he had an audience.

Roxas felt his lips pull into a smirk. He was caught, that much was obvious, and he found that he didn't mind. In fact, it was _exciting_. He wondered how much Axel could see from where he was at, and stroked himself slowly, waiting for a reaction from Axel.

Axel bit his lip, eyes on Roxas. _Ha!_

Roxas's smirk widened, and he continued, felt his body growing hotter as he touched himself, and watched Axel, who was watching him. Axel looked…maybe a little uncomfortable, but he was still hard, his hands moving again, albeit without the confidence from only a few moments ago.

When Roxas came, he did so without holding back his voice, "Axel!" spilling from his lips in a breathless moan, and his eyes slipped shut, so he missed the man's reaction, but when he opened them again, Axel was wiping away his own release, head back against the wall.

Roxas waited until he was sure Axel was looking at him again, and blew him a kiss.

The flush of Axel's face deepened, and Roxas thought, this was better. This was a _start_.

And when Roxas went around the block the next day, for the first time, and rang the doorbell, and found himself in the presence of a _very_ flustered Axel, he couldn't help but grin when he asked him to dinner.


End file.
